I just want to tell you how I'm feeling
by kamefootninja
Summary: Crowley is drunk and rambling about Aziraphale in a bar, but you never know when you're going to accidently inspire someone to write a song.


"How do you ssssstop hisssssing?" Now that the worst of the physical pain and shock was fading, Aziraphale was trying to wrap his head around just how different the demons body was. He'd expected that things like the hissing would just be a Crowley thing, something he personally did, not his actual demonic nature. How he passed as a human at all was beyond him, because right now Aziraphale wouldn't be able to convince anyone of anything.

"Uh, practice I guess." Crowley shrugged, he'd not thought about it much before, in hell it was common for demons to not sound entirely human, but spending so long on earth rubbed off on you. It hadn't been much harder for Crowley to control his hissing, then it was for humans to pick up a new accent after spending a long time in a foreign land. "You have to really focus on the words. Might help talking a little slower?"

"Honessstly Crowley. It seemssss like you don't know mucch about your body at all."

Aziraphale took a nice long calming breath, something that again was strange, but probably going to get even weirder by the time they were done. Their voices, apart from the hissing, weren't quite right. And he could feel himself, as well as see Aziraphale, didn't look natural at all.

"Okay, sso. We should have thought thiss through more carefully." It wasn't perfect, but Aziraphale was happy that it was at least a little more human this time, it was a start. "Do you still think thiss is going to work?" They didn't have much choice, but if it was doomed to fail then they could at least try to come up with something else in the limited time they had left.

"It has to."

Crowley shifted uncomfortably, not able to get comfortable on the sofa in his usual relaxed manner. The whole body felt stiff, like the angel had no flexibility whatsoever, all the joints and bones felt too tense and rigid. He ended up sitting with his back straight , one arm leaning against the side of the chair. He couldn't even cross his legs properly, not with the stiffness in his limbs and the extra weight.

He decided that maybe being just a little less sober would loosen them up and help them relax a little more, it was worth a shot after all, if nothing else it would maybe make this a little less embarrassing for them. Well, not really, but they wouldn't care as much if they were just the wrong side of being tipsy after all. So without really thinking, he snatched up the wine bottle he'd been drinking from earlier and poured two generous glasses, he was about to throw it back, but stopped to stare at the liquid in the glass instead.

"Aziraphale…. Is this red?"

"Of coursse it's red, you always change it to red." The angel pretended to hate it when Crowley changed his expensive white wine, but over the years it had become sort of endearing, how he never failed to transmute the alcohol to suit his tastes. Aziraphale only half glanced at the wine, not seeing why the demon even brought it up. It was only when he got no reply that he looked closer at the colour, and realised that it wasn't really red. That's to say, it was a pale, washed out and desaturated ghost of what the colour Red should be.

A quick look around confirmed that it wasn't just the liquid. Everything that had been the bright red pop of colour in Crowley's apartment, was now the same washed out pale imitation of itself. He hadn't noticed before, because he'd been very distracted, and his eyes had mostly been focused on his own form. His body that, apart from the eyes which seemed a little brighter than usual, looked exactly the same, the colours completely unchanged.

"Crowley… are you colour blind?" His voice wasn't angry this time, just dumbfounded. After six thousand years you'd think he knew everything about the demon, but apparently there was a lot he never mentioned. Though the way Crolwey looked right now, was it possible he didn't know until now either?

Crowley's eyes had wandered from the glass of alcohol, and was now staring at the gently roaring fire, seemingly captivated by the flames. He was suddenly realising why Hastur liked setting things on fire so much. "Huh?" It took a few seconds before he shook his head and turned to face Aziraphale properly, only slightly distracted by the vibrancy of his own ginger hair. "I guess that would make sense." His voice still seemed a little far away, taking in the strange revelation that he had no memory of colours this bright and vibrant.

"Crowley. You've had this body for over sssix thousand years, how can you not know you're colour blind?" Surely he must have realised something was off. When Aziraphale gushed over an outfit, or the bright and pretty flowers they passed in the park, surely Crowley must have known what they looked like?

"Its worse when I'm a snake." Crowley admitted, with a shrug. "So I assumed it was the same for everyone." He couldn't remember seeing the world any differently, it was perfectly normal for him that colours weren't a loud as they looked to him now, literally seeing through someone else's eyes. He still wasn't completely convinced, for all he knew the Angel could see better than a human, so it might not be a good comparison.

One thing he did know, was that he was glad his interior design choice was mostly blacks and greys, the slight dash of red was distracting enough now he noticed how much it stood out. "Feel like I need those glasses more if all colours are this bright." He joked, making a vague gesture towards his eyes. To his surprise the glasses moved from Aziraphale, onto his own face. Did he just...

Aziraphale's little hiss at suddenly not having the thin shield over his eyes was oddly characteristic of how Crowley would have reacted as well. "I think we sshould keep the miracles for important matters. Don't want to attract their attention until we need to." The angel pointed out, not that he thought something so small would even register upstairs, if they did, then he'd have had more than a few comments about misusing miracles over the years. His unintentional hissing was slowly getting better the more he spoke though, so that was an improvement.

"I didn't mean to do it is the thing." Crowley looked down at the plump, well manicured hand like it was solely responsible. As much as he liked having the glasses on, he knew he couldn't get used to it in this body, so he handed them back a little sheepishly. "No wonder you got pulled up for frivolous miracles." He muttered, half to himself. It had just happened so naturally, this body used to using its power regularly enough that it was almost automatic by this point. Hopefully that only happened with 'frivolous' miracles, he'd hate to accidentally do something big and not know how to stop it.

Taking a drink of the wine, he pulled a face at the bitter taste, it didn't taste bad, but it had tasted better before. He liked richer, more bitter tastes to his alcohol than Aziraphale did. That's not to say that he found the taste unpleasant now, but it wasn't as nice as he'd expected it to be. This body isn't used to, or as keen on the taste as his own. Looking over at Aziraphale, he noticed the exact opposite reaction. The fussy angel was usually a white wine drinker, but he seemed to be happily enjoying the less than sweet red. Great, apparently taste was a thing to take into consideration as well.

By the time he took a second sip, it had miraculously turned back to white, though he wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. Having a different pallet was the least of their worries, they didn't need to eat or drink anything really, so it didn't seem important to get used to. It was just a strange sensation to experience.

After downing the rest of the wine, Crowley nervously got up to start pacing again, only he wobbled and had to catch himself on the arm of the chair, angelic wings fluttering to help him try and regain his balance. This body may feel light from the angelic powers inside, but it was a good deal heavier, and just plain bigger in every way. Standing up he noticed again just how stiff his joints felt, despite the soft layer of chub. He heard a little snort behind him and caught Aziraphale biting his lip to try and avoid making the teasing comment that was clearly on his mind.

"This is going to be a lot harder than I thought." Crowley admitted, taking a few slow steps, he supposed this was similar to how humans felt on the moon. Suddenly heavier, and things like gravity and balance being thrown completely off. He wasn't looking forward to when he inevitably would have to de-manifest the wings though, because right now he needed them for balance.

Curious himself now, and very cautious, Aziraphale put down his wine glass and stood to try and walk. Tried being the important word here, because almost immediately he fell forwards with a short cry of surprise into the coffee table. Pushing himself up, he reacted by trying to cover his embarrassment with a glare, which could just about be seen over the glasses that now lay askew on his face.

"Crowley, for heaven's ssssssake, do you even _have_ bonesssss?" There was nothing sturdy about the demons body, all sharp lines, flexible features and almost too thin built. Honestly Aziraphale was partly surprised Crowley could even stand upright, though maybe that explained why he swayed slightly when stood still, and how he didn't so much as sit in chairs, as lounge on them, practically laying down in a sprawl.

Crowley considered saying 'probably', because he could choose to not have bones, being a serpent as well as demon meant he could find some middle ground if it was more convenient. But he rightfully assumed that would just distress the angel, so he chose to just smile instead, and offer him a hand up. Which Aziraphale took with a rather undignified grunt of acknowledgement.

"You'd think two occult beings would be able to work this out." He had to laugh. They had helped prevent Armageddon, and yet they couldn't even walk and talk right now. "Sorry occult and _ethereal._" He added, because he could practically see the argument on the tip of Aziraphale, somewhat too thin, tongue.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
